The sun was setting, its golden glow fading into the darkening forest. Safal pushed through the bushes, the crunch of dry leaves under his feet the only sound in the stillness. He didn't know why, but something felt wrong. His heart pounded harder with every step as he neared the village.
When the trees finally opened to his home, he froze. The lively village he knew was gone. Huts lay broken and burned, smoke curling into the cold evening air. The ground was stained with blood, and the faces of the people he loved — his friends, his family — were now empty, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing.
Safal dropped to his knees. "No… this can't be real," he whispered, his voice cracking. His hands shook as he covered his face, but no amount of hiding could block out the horrifying sight. Memories flooded back — children laughing, neighbors arguing about who made the best curry, and his uncle's loud snoring during midday naps. All of it gone in an instant.
Then, a faint cry broke through the silence. It wasn't a ghost, was it? Safal's head snapped up, and he followed the sound, scrambling over debris. There, hiding behind a pile of broken wood, was a tiny child. Their cheeks were streaked with tears, and their big, scared eyes locked onto him.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Safal said, scooping up the trembling child. The little one clung to him, their small fingers gripping his shirt like it was their last lifeline. Safal held them close, his own tears spilling down. Out of the hundred people in the village, it seemed only two were left alive: him and this little one.
As the child cried softly, Safal's sadness twisted into something sharper. Who would do this? Why? His hands curled into fists, and for a moment, he felt like punching the nearest tree. But as he looked at the child, their tear-streaked face snapped him back. Rage wouldn't help them now.
He stood, holding the child firmly. "Don't worry," he whispered, though his voice wavered. "I'll keep you safe. And… I'll find who did this. They'll pay for what they've done."
The first light of dawn crept over the ruined village, casting everything in a cold, harsh light. Safal's legs felt like they might give out, but he stayed on his feet. This wasn't the end for him. Not yet.
If anyone was going to fix this, it had to be him. And somehow, some way, he would.
Amid the devastation, Safal heard a weak groan. He followed the sound and found his uncle, Ashish, lying against a splintered pillar. Blood pooled beneath him, his trembling hand reached out to Safal.
"Ashish-uncle!" Safal cried, cradling the dying man.
Ashish's eyes fluttered open, a faint spark of recognition igniting in his gaze. "Safal… you're alive," he whispered. His voice was barely above a whisper, each word laced with pain. "They… they were here for you, Safal. You are the last survivor of the Drago Clan… after your brother."
Safal's heart raced. "My brother? Where is he?"
Ashish coughed, blood staining his lips. "We don't know. But listen… promise me you will protect the little one… and kill each bastards who were involved in our death. You must carry the legacy of the Drago Clan."
Safal's tears blurred his vision. "I promise, but I'm not strong enough."
Ashish gripped Safal's arm with surprising strength. "Go to the Himalayan Temple… unlock the power of our clan. Break the promise made a thousand years ago and let the world know… we know no bounds when our family is destroyed. Be the One(TGR)."
The weight of Ashish's words pressed heavily on Safal's shoulders. "I won't fail you, Uncle," he vowed, his voice cracking with emotion.
With those words, Ashish's hand fell limp. Safal held him close, his cries echoing through the empty village. The grief was unbearable, but his uncle's final words burned in his mind. His path was set, and his destiny awaited.